Ich Will
by Silenceheard
Summary: While on assignment an accident leaves Ed in a coma. Roy learns that the rogue alchemist Ed was after is on the loose with an insidious agenda for revenge. Can Roy catch him before it's too late? Or will he lose Ed forever? RoyxEd
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Ich Will  
**Pairing: **RoyxEd  
**Word Count: **about 3000  
**Rating: R**  
**Summery: **While on assignment an accident leaves Ed in a coma. Roy learns that the rogue alchemist Ed was after is on the loose with an insidious agenda for revenge. Can Roy catch him before it's too late? Or will he lose Ed forever? RoyxEd

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own FMA or the characters, only the writing is mine.

Fullmetal Alchemist © Hiromu Arakawa

* * *

There are many ways for one to pass the monotonous hours of the work day. Some actually did their work, while others slacked and found every excuse they possibly could to avoid the stacks of paperwork that loomed over their heads. Roy Mustang, _Colonel Roy Mustang_, was one such slacker.  
The man made an art form of procrastinating his work. Making paper cranes or horribly deformed folds of expense reports. Hiding files and folders in every imaginable place of the office; behind the filing cabinet, in drawers of his desk, between the cushions of the two leather sofas, under Breda's box of doughnuts.

Even holding mock fire drills with the personnel of his staff (Hawkeye had to be out of the office for these proceedings) by setting fire to the never ending paperwork and herding them all out of the building in a single file line to the parade ground. Where he would then lecture for normally an hour on the importance of fire safety. Up until the last possible second, when the muzzle of the lieutenant's gun as trained on his head, did he dutifully do his paperwork.

Today was no exception. The Colonel was reclined back in his chair, pen balanced on the bridge of his nose, daydreaming. His fantasies taking him far from the now and present of reality that the Colonel's dark eyes were at half mast, slipping towards closed when the door to his office opened without warning. Startled by the sudden movement in the peripheral of his vision, the raven haired man jerked forward and upright in his chair. Making his pen take flight across his desk to the floor where it rolled against the boots of his first lieutenant.

"You should knock before entering, lieutenant," he casually reprimanded.

"With all due respect sir, you should hold on to your pen better," she replied smoothly picking up said pen.

"Well how am I supposed to do my work if your barging in here without warning," he raised both hands in a shrug to emphasize his point.

The blonde lieutenant held him in her gaze and he waited for the moment when she would rest her hand on the butt of her gun and call him out on his false accusations. None came. Instead the lieutenant held the pen in her hands, her fingers twisting the thin implement back and forth.

"Is something wrong lieutenant?"

She hesitated a moment, whether to choose her next words carefully or debating with something internally, then, "I received a call from Alphonse."

Every nerve went wire tight, every instinct within Roy sang with awareness. There were a small handful of possibilities why the younger Elric would call the office but only one true reason: Ed.

The drive to the hospital was executed at such break neck speed that Roy didn't have time to think properly. Rushed up the stairs into the brightly lit lobby were a young nurse, with dark hair and green eyes, greeted him with a smile.

"Hello, can I help you sir?" her lashes fluttered.

"I need the room that Edward Elric is in," ignoring the rasping of his words as they smoothly left his tongue.

"Alright, let me find it for you," she said shuffling some papers behind the desk. "Ah, here we are," a thick green notebook was produced on top of the neat desk. "Do you know what ward your friend is in?"

Friend should not have stung so much. Edward was not a _friend_, he was more than that. So much more "I, uh, don't know what ward my...friend is-"

"No problem," the nurse beamed, giving a flirtatious smile, "Let me find him for you."

The wink she gave him made his fingers ache. The way she hummed, just loud enough for him to hear, made Roy think of setting fire to the logbook beneath her manicured fingernail as it moved slowly down each name.  
Instead, he tried to organize his thoughts back into order, tried to force the sinking nausea in his stomach to go away; slowly rubbing his gloved fingers back and forth. Feeling the roughness of the ignition cloth scrap across his thumb, middle and forefinger.

It did not help matters that the nurse, who was close to losing her eyebrows, kept looking up at him with little winks and smiles, her finger still skimming down the pages. Roy gritted his teeth; he didn't have time for this! Where was Hughes and his infallible investigative knowledge when he needed him?

The answer was like a battering ram to the skull. Wiping out Roy's thoughts to leave empty silence for a brief moment. Hughes wasn't here anymore. He didn't have Hughes to inform him of the details to the larger picture; not for aver a year now. The nausea in his stomach rolled and something sank like a lead weight in him. He hadn't known about Hughes until it was too late.

"I'm sorry," the nurse's reedy voice interrupted his thoughts, "What was your friend's name again?"

His fingers clicked a sharp crack as the spark came to life off his gloves. Murder. He was going to commit murder, right here in front of a dozen witnesses, in the hospital lobby.  
However, in the same instant, Hawkeye stepped in front of him; turning the logbook out from under the nurse's hand as the spark fell dead to the floor. "It's important that we have Major Elric's room," she exclaimed calmly over the nurse's sputtering and deer in the headlight stare.

Making an irritated noise in the back of his throat, Roy was about to ask for the log himself when a clang and an all too familiar flash of red made him turn. Exiting one of the rooms at the end of the hall was Alphonse.

Mustang turned and very nearly ran to the suit of armor nevertheless he managed a calm albeit hurried walk. Paying no attention to the still sputtering nurse he had left behind at the receptionist desk.

"Alphonse," he called.

The younger Elric turned, saw him, "Colonel," looked down at the flash of red that had caught Roy's eye. His brothers red coat was tucked in his arms, like a child holding onto his blanket to protect himself.

Oh.

"I'm sorry, I had to disturb you and make you come all the way down here but…" Al apologized, his voice small.

"It's no trouble," he reassured worry building as Al began to shake, the armor rattling softly.

"They won't let me see brother,"

And suddenly Roy noticed that Al's armor was gleaming as if it had just been polished, the apron/skirt was still damp at the edges and Ed's coat was a deeper shade of red nearly brown. Roy felt his heart twist and wrench itself against his ribcage, disconnecting and sinking to where his stomach had been an hour earlier.

"Brother and I followed that rouge alchemist, Howards, to the warehouse district. He ran into one of the warehouses and hid in the crates by the door but brother found him and they started fighting." He began without preamble and stopped just as he had begun.

"And then what happened Alphonse?" the raven haired man asked needing to know what fate had befallen the blonde alchemist even as some small part of him wished to never know.

"There was an explosion," the boy explained, his words more hollow than the armor could ever make them. "Howards had run into one of the warehouses where alchemical equipment and chemicals were kept. He transmuted a crate into a bomb and it started off a chain reaction." Alphonse looked down at the red coat in his arms, tightened his grip on it. "Brother pushed me out of the way, tried to protect me with his body, when he knows that like this I can't get hurt; he's an idiot a stupid idiot!"

Roy sighed, just like Ed to throw himself in harm's way with no thought for himself. He was going to have to have a serious talk with him about that moral ethic. Of course, afterwards, Ed would bitch and be a breathtaking gale of gold fury; it was for Al, he'd do anything, give anything for Al. "Why won't they let you see your brother?"

"A nurse told me that the hospital has a new policy on who they will release a patient's information to. The patient has to formally name a next of kin upon arrival but brother's been unconscious since the explosion so the hospital checked his records and saw that I was listed as a blood relative. However, their new policy also states that since I'm younger than brother and a minor, that I'm not capable of making decisions on behalf of Ed's health," he said, the hurt clear in his voice. "They said his, they said you had to be here," Al went on his words stumbling over each other in a frenzy. "That as his commanding officer, you were the only one they'd release information to."

"How can they not let me see my brother?" he cried.

Mustang felt himself go numb, what was left of his heart was sitting like rot in his gut. He managed to keep the mask in place with a bit of controlled effort. On the inside, he was coming apart; Ed was still unconscious and that was only one detail of this chaotic mess.

"I um," Al spoke again, shuffling his feet and ducking his head, his voice calmer and quieter "I also called because I know you and brother are…" he stopped and Roy thought that if Al could blush then the armor would be a rosy pink.

"I thought you should know."

A flutter of comfort softened the empty space where his heart should have been. After the difficulty Al had had when Ed had finally told him he was seeing the _bastard_ colonel, the younger Elric was starting to see Roy and his brother as _them_.

"Thank you," he whispered softly, feeling that flutter of comfort dissolve the frozen barrier from his frame.

"Sir," Hawkeye approached from her discreet spot down the hall, an older nurse in tow. "The doctor overseeing Edward is waiting for you to discuss his condition. I'll wait here with Alphonse."

The flame alchemist nodded moving to follow the nurse, who beckoned him to follow her. First, Roy reached up and knocked his fist against Al's chest plate like he'd seen Ed do.

"You have my word Alphonse, when I'm done speaking to the doctor there will never be any dispute over you being allowed to see your brother again," he stated in the voice he reserved for giving out commands.

The nurse gave a smug smile, turning towards the stair well at the very end of the hall, as Roy followed. "It's about time someone saw sense of that new policy, it's not right, I tell you, to keep family behind so much red tape."

Roy chuckled good naturedly as they ascended to the third floor, following the stout woman to a nurses station where she picked up a clipboard.

"I've been the attending nurse since he arrived," she explained, leading him to the room marked 314.

"How is he?" Roy asked, the anxiety returning with full nauseating force.

"Poor lamb doesn't feel a thing right now," she said opening the door. "We have him on a sedative."

Bright white tiles and a hospital bed against the wall and there was Ed. Eyes closed and still beneath the pale sheets. The raven haired man didn't know what to feel as a hundred conflicting emotions passed through him: relief that the blonde was now in his sights, curiosity as to what was wrong with him, desire to kiss him, at the same time a conflicting desire to strangle him, anger that he could do this to Roy and his brother, and a growing sense of dread.

"I'll go get the doctor," the nurse announced after checking Fullmetal's vitals and marking it down on the clipboard.

Roy nodded, watched her leave, and then as an afterthought removed his gloves.

It was hard to believe he could be so quiet. Even harder to believe that he could be so still. But it was impossible to believe, to even imagine, he would never wake again. Not when he was within arm's reach, still warm, still _breathing_. Just peacefully breathing, in and out. Lost to the world in slumber and made unaware of the turmoil that surrounded him.

Colonel Mustang listened, after making sure that his terms regarding Alphonse and his brother were met, as the doctor, overseeing Fullmetal's treatment, listed his known injuries and theorized possible ones. While Roy, Edwards lover, silently agonized with each detail. All the while wanting to reach out and take the blonde's limp hand in his own as a way to anchor himself. To remind him that his future, a future with Ed, _**their**_ future was not slipping through his fingers.

But a commanding officer would not reach out for the hand of a subordinate. There was no reason, in the military's eyes, for him to be anything but the young alchemist's superior. That's why there were rules against fraternization. Rules and consequences about fucking a male subordinate almost half his age.

Roy fought for a moment to keep his face neutral, to keep the corners of his mouth even and not quirking up into a smirk. He remembered Ed's blatant tirade of what he thought of the rules and where the military could shove them because who he chose to fuck with was none of their damn business. He also remembered one night where Ed had read the section on fraternization, _aloud_, during sex.

However, the consequences of the situation were always present as long as Ed held the state pocket watch. Pushing the urge to damn the consequences and just hold Ed, Mustang turned his attention back to the doctor, who had continued to rattle off Ed's medical sheet without pause.

"We've been able to deduce that there's no internal bleeding and all of the Majors' primary organs are functioning normally, minus the bruising to the left kidney," the doctor, a squat man in his mid-fifties with salt and pepper hair and matching beard, explained. "The x-rays show minor fractures to the third and fourth rib and there's some muscle tearing beneath the automail port of Major Elric's arm. We don't know the full detramation of this to the Major's condition as we're still waiting to hear from his mechanic. Given his current condition he's defiantly suffered a concussion and head trauma though without him being conscious there's no way for us to determine the extent of the damage."

"I see," the raven haired man said after working past the growing lump in his throat. His eyes down cast, returning to Edward's prone form beneath the stark white sheets before returning to the doctor.

"I'm sorry there's nothing further we can do Colonel Mustang," the doctor stated, going over the charts on his clipboard. "I know you care for your men more than some of your fellow officers but all we can do now is wait."

"Wait for what?" slipped past his lips without any thought process from his brain. The words coming out in a low growl of the despair tinged anger.

"Head injuries are damn near impossible things to diagnose let alone treat without the patient being awake," the stout man looked up from his clipboard pursing his lips before continuing, "For all we know the Major could wake up in the next few minutes or not at all."

Roy barely stifled the whine in the back of his throat, his dark eyes returning to the young alchemist in the bed beside him. Holding on to the last of his will not to move closer to his lover.

"All we can do for him is make him comfortable until we come to that crossroad,"

Without another word the doctor turned and made his way to the door.

"I can't accept that," Roy murmured fiercely. "_I won't_."

The doctor gone Roy turned his attention fully to the young alchemist. Taking in the warm tone of his skin to the tangle of gold hair that rested on the pillow. If... if he ignored the thrashing anxiety in his gut and the dark flutter of his thoughts. Ignored the clean white bandage that was wrapped around Edward's forehead or that there were other bandages in various places of his lover's body. Then, Ed looked as if he was just sleeping, warm and safe, like he did at Roy's side.

Except, he wasn't safe.

Roy stepped closer, couldn't help himself not to, his dark eyes distant, he reached out to run a finger gently over the back of Ed's automail. Guilty thoughts swam to the forefront of his overcrowded mind. Accusing angry voices that demanded why he hadn't kept Ed safe, why he hadn't known something was wrong, who'd put the boy here in the first place, why he'd never-

"Sir,"

Mustang looked up spotting Hawkeye by the door. He cursed himself for not having heard her come in, being too lost to his whirlwind of thoughts; if she had been someone else. Instantly his eyes fell to Fullmetal's automail, to the pale finger that ghosted back and forth over the steel.

"It's time that we got back, sir," she informed him, her eyes softening as if in apology for the intrusion.

"Of course," he said slowly, reluctantly withdrawing his hand from the blonde before walking around the bed to where the lieutenant waited. A few paces from the bed he turned, a hint of humor and smug superiority finding their way into his voice. "I hope you don't plan on lying there all day Fullmetal, after all I do have a busy schedule."

No response.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Ich Will  
**Pairing**: RoyxEd  
**Word Count:** about 4000  
**Rating:** R  
**Summary:**While on assignment an accident leaves Ed in a coma. Roy learns that the rogue alchemist Ed was after is on the loose with an insidious agenda for revenge. Can Roy catch him before it's too late? Or will he lose Ed forever?

**A/N: **SO MUCH LATER THAN EXPECTED! DX I'm sorry on the wait, the holiday season attacked me whenever I tried to work on this an other pieces of writing. It's not as long as I would have liked T_T, I actually had part two going in a another direction and then the plot showed itself and decided to do something different. Anyway here's part two of Ich Will, enjoy! Hope everyone has a safe and fun evening and a wonderful New Year for 2011 :)

**Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or the characters, only the writing is mine.**

**Fullmetal Alchemist © Hiromu Arakawa**

* * *

Day II

The morning broke with pale clouds and the soft whisper of bird song outside his bedroom window. Feeble light peeked under the curtains but fell no farther than the floor beneath the casement. Shadowy hair lay spiked against the pillow, sable brushed against a white backdrop, long ebony lashes rested against ivory skin. His face void of any masks in sleep, the expression he wore was neither quite satisfied nor entirely relaxed. Upper body exposed from beneath the silvery sheets that rested against his hipbones. Long swaths of muscled skin, lax with sleep, rose and fell with the gentle snores that reverberated in his chest. To complement the subtle tickticktick of the brass clock on the bedside table, creating a pleasurable harmony.

All was blissfully at peace.

In anticipation of the shrill screech of the alarm clock which woke Roy from his slumber with a loud snort. Groggily he stretched an arm out bringing it down mercilessly on top of the alarm to silence the bells without even moving his head from the pillows. Five more minutes would not hurt nor would it get him shot.

He burrowed deeper into the covers, gave a content groan and flung his right arm out to pull his lover closer.

Except his hand landed on cool empty sheets; he moved his hand back and forth, reaching for the warm body beside him, his fingers grasping nothing but fabric and air.

Roy cracked a drowsy eye open, wondering if his companion hadn't rolled all the way to the edge of the bed out of Roy's reach.

The bed was empty. Roy sat up, disregarding the niggling of evidence in the back of his head, listening for the sound of pipes or running water or movement from down stairs, something, _anything_, to prove that Ed was in the house. Not a sound. His eyes fell to the undented pillow beside him and the still neatly made side of the bed Ed normally slept on.

He wasn't here.

'Of course he wasn't,' Roy thought bitterly running his fingers through his hair. Ed was in the hospital, in a coma no less. He scowled at the sheets pooled around his waist then looked to the clock, sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

After returning to work the previous day, Roy had managed to scrape together a grand total of zero percent of his concentration. Too worried and shaken about Ed to give his full attention to his paperwork he had glumly waited out the remaining hours until it was late enough in the day to emerge from his office, hand the half completed files to Hawkeye and announce he was going home.

Once home, however, all Roy had done was prowl through the domain of his sanctuary. Pacing back in forth in front of the crackling fire he had lit for peace of mind rather than the cold; his thoughts brimming with inquisitive anxieties for Ed's wellbeing. Every small pop of the fire and creak of the house making him turn his head to the phone like a dog waiting to hear its masters' call. It was only the deceptive reassurances from his brain, Ed would be fine, he always was, he'll probably be awake and ready to get out of the hospital by morning, which had made him finally go to bed and had him drift off into an uneasy sleep.

Casting aside the covers Roy got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom down the hall. Falling into the rhythm of his morning routine with ease: he answered the call of nature, showered, dried himself, shaved, checked his face for any stray stubble, combed his hair, brushed his teeth, and dressed while repeating to himself like a mantra that Ed was fine. By the time that he had brewed some coffee he was convinced that he almost believed it himself. Just a hint of doubt, a veil of uncertainty cloaked the hope from becoming a pillar of strength that would crumble if he was wrong. It would save him from the hurt should Ed not…

Roy shook his head, trying to dislodge the wearisome thoughts from his brain. They wouldn't serve him any purpose but to worry him out of his skull and they certainly did not help Ed.

He went to take another drink of his coffee, relishing the strong bitter taste on his tongue when he looked to the counter and realized that he had pulled a second cup down from the cupboard, a cup for his lover who normally started the morning with him. He set his cup down; replacing it with the cool ceramic of the empty mug he had pulled out for Ed. Turning it in his hands for a moment, the smooth off white of the glazed ceramic reflecting a muddied smear of colors back at him, lost in thought and wanting Ed in his arms.

The rumble of a car approached outside and a moment later a brash honk from the horn announced second lieutenant Havoc's arrival. Roy sighed, set the mug in his hands aside, downed the last of his coffee and headed for the door. Duty called.

Havoc greeted him with an idle salute, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. "Morning Chief,"

Roy gave a nod and climbed into the back seat of the black car "She's still mad at me I take it," he said dryly.

"With all due respect sir, you brought this on yourself," Havoc grinned as he pulled away from the curb, accelerating once they were out on the main road.

Roy shrugged, as if it was his fault the first lieutenant did not see the value of highly educational fire drills. The penance for his deeds had been rather drastic in his opinion. Hawkeye had kept him in the office until well after ten in the evening fixing and signing all the reports that had caught fire and as added abuse has had Havoc pick him up from home every morning for the past three weeks now. To shuttle him back and forth between work and home like a naughty school boy.

"How's the boss doing?" blue eyes flicked up in the rear view to look at him.

"As well as can be expected when I last saw him," Roy replied, watching the white tower of Headquarters growing larger as they approached.

"Hawkeye told us," he paused blue eyes flicking back to his superior in the mirror again before reaching for the cigarette behind his ear and placing it between his lips, "she told us the doc said it doesn't look good."

"Fullmetal will be fine," he waited for the guards at the gates to wave them through ignoring the thrashing uncertainty in his stomach, "He always is."

Colonel Roy Mustang's work day began with the ceremonial briefing of the day's agenda. Hawkeye came into his office with a slim stack of paperwork in her hands, saluted, placed the stack on his desk and ran through the morning's schedule. The files currently on his desk needed to be signed and returned to the lieutenant by eight so as to give him time to prep for a meeting with General Hakuro. The meeting should take two hours given time for all those involved to explain their points and make their voice heard. Then he was due back in the office to sign paperwork until lunch. After that he had inspections of a new prototype for flame resistant uniforms. By the time he was finished there the colonel had nothing left on his schedule that required him to be out of the office.

"If you're not held over sir, then you should have the rest of the afternoon to start on some of the paperwork I've found underneath the filing cabinet," her tone was flat and the level look she gave him was worse than any glare. "I would like them finished before the week is over Colonel." His first lieutenant didn't need to use threats to back up her words; he could feel the glaring irritation held in check beneath her cool posture. Besides he was still dealing with the consequences of his latest blunder.

"Of course lieutenant," he docilely acquiesced, picking up his pen and opening the first file in front of him. Roy looked to the clock on his desk, one thin black hand pointing towards the numerical seven, the other a little past the twelve. Roy reigned in the sigh before it had time to build up, sat up a little straighter in his chair and commenced to read the file before him. He had hoped for news about Ed, but it was only just the beginning of the work day. Word would probably trickle down through the vine of intelligence and make it to Roy's ears before lunch if word traveled fast as it so often did in the military. Patience was all he needed.

"If any word had come I would have already told you sir," Hawkeye revealed after a moment of silence.

Roy looked up from the fine print on the page to his first lieutenant. Her face was neutral, schooled into the calm expression of a soldier at ease. Blonde hair pulled up in a professional clip and auburn eyes trained on his face. They gave away nothing, holding the secret, which Roy had never really told her, safely.

"Thank you lieutenant, dismissed,"

Hawkeye saluted and departed from the office closing the door behind her. The raven haired man sat for a moment, pen poised over the white sheet before him. Riza Hawkeye wasn't his fist lieutenant for nothing, she saw all the little details of his life in sharp focus: inside as well as outside of the office. Since Hughes passing the lieutenant had taken it upon herself to inform the Colonel of Fullmetal's comings and goings, filling in the gaps of information that were left empty in the late Brigadier-General's absence.

Roy had never told anyone of his and Ed's relationship, no one living at least. The greatest stipulation of them being together was that no one could know; which in hindsight, no one really _did_ know except for Alphonse. As much of a shock as it had been for the younger Elric he kept their secret, if not for Roy then for his brother's sake. Roy was sure Riza knew of his feelings towards Ed; she had seen the longing looks that reduced the world to just Ed and him, caught the tail end of touches and stolen kisses.

But Roy had never explained and Riza had never asked. In truth, he was protecting her as much as she was him. Should she ever be questioned on if she knew of any immoral fraternization between Colonel Mustang and Major Elric she could honestly answer no. But should their relationship ever be discovered, Hawkeye would be spared from any bad grace because when it came down to point blank truth, Roy had never said one word to his first lieutenant about his feelings for the blonde alchemist. Although Roy doubted his lieutenant would claim such ignorance, just as Ed would never let Roy take the fall for both of their sins to protect him. The same as how the Flame Alchemist would do whatever it took to keep those close to him safe.

He looked to the clock again, and pulled a face at the time. Dispelling his mind of all thoughts but those required to concentrate and sign on the dotted line, Roy settled himself into the work day.

Five O'clock could not have come fast enough. A Wednesday had no right to be so drawn-out, every hour dawdling behind the other in one gradual, laborious stretch after the other. When Roy was Fuhrer there would be no Wednesday along with Monday and Tuesday. The work week would consist of Thursday, because nothing remarkable happened on Thursday's and Friday because Friday gave people a chance to look forward to the weekend. Yes, when he was Fuhrer there would be changes. Many great and celebrated changes but for now Roy was content to loath the Wednesday he had just suffered through.

Hawkeye never came back into the office to give him news regarding a certain blonde alchemist. Not even a passing reassurance of no change in the situation. Yet at the end of the day no word had come from the hospital on Fullmetal's status. Which could mean a number of things, Roy reasoned with himself. No news was good news wasn't it?

No. Ignorance was hell. Pure agonizing hell to sit and let his thoughts prey on his heart strings; plucking them back and forth like they were connected to a poorly constructed marionette. His subconscious imagining horrors and tragic scenarios by the dozens were almost enough to make him bolt from the confines of military headquarters to his lovers' side.

But that didn't matter now. The work day was done and he had Havoc drive him to the hospital to check on Fullmetal's progress. Through the double glass doors and Roy was glad to see a different nurse at the receptionist desk. He signed the guest registry and continued on his way up the stairs, the little star of hope in his chest growing brighter with each step, calling out Ed, Ed, Ed, in time with his heart.

The hallway was blue, he noticed this time, the floor shined in the light that fell through the open doorways to other rooms. His dark eyes scanned the corridor falling on the closed door to room 314. He hesitated, one hand raised to knock, listening for any sounds of life beyond the door.

"Back again Colonel?"

Mustang turned; there stood the nurse from the other day. Rubicund hair pulled back beneath her cap, a kind smile on her face and clipboard in hand.

"I've come to check on my subordinate," he explained.

"Not much change 'm afraid," she said walking around him to open the door. "You can seem him still if you like, I'm sure Alphonse would love the company."

"I'm sorry I don't believe I heard your name from the other day?" he asked eying the half open door distrustfully.

"Helen," she replied extending a hand. "Helen Rocha."

"Roy Mustang," he shook her smaller hand.

"I know," she beamed walking into the room, greeting Al who sat by the window surrounded by small towers of books.

"Evening Mrs. Rocha," Al welcomed polite as ever setting his book aside, and then caught sight of Roy behind her "Good evening Colonel."

"Alphonse," he said, feeling awkward as to what he could actually say to the younger Elric with the stout nurse in the room.

Their eyes, a pair of dark summer sky and red rimmed points of light, fell to Helen who had Ed's left wrist in her hand, fingers over the pulse.

"Still a little too fast," she murmured to herself marking the numbers down on the clipboard "You said his mechanic was coming?"

"Yes, Winry said she'd be here Friday," Al informed looking to his brother. "Is there something wrong with brother's automail?"

"I'm not sure, I don't know much about artificial limb attachments to make that kind of judgment," she said moving on to check the blonde's other vitals "But I'm sure Winry will be able to tell us when she gets here." She gave a genuine smile, finished with her examination and bid them farewell, promising Al that she would be back to check on Ed before her shift was over.

"She's really nice," Al spoke first once the door was closed. "She comes in and visits on her breaks, makes sure I'm alright." He stood with a soft shifting of metal and walked over to his brother's side. Roy followed helpless not to move closer to the blonde alchemist that his body keened for. Watched as Al picked up his brothers flesh hand and held it in his oversized gauntlets, stroking it gently. "Brother, Brother, the Colonel's here,"

The pleading tone he used to call out to his unconscious sibling made Roy feel wretched, made him want to shake Ed awake to answer his brother. He remembered the conversations they had shared in the dark of the night when they lie pressed against one another, beating heart to beating heart. How Ed had talked about Al and the smile that lit his face every time he mentioned his little brother. He told Roy about when they were younger and Al always managed to beat him when they fought, the little insignificant details of their childhood that was all they had to remember it by. Ed had told him what he would do for Al, what he could and would give, and Roy had heard behind his words the devotion not entirely borne of guilt. Had listened and felt the sheer amount of love that Ed had for his little brother; so much love and devotion and guilt all mixed into what Ed was for Alphonse. It hurt Roy, in an odd way he hurt for Ed too, in a hollow feeling beneath his ribs, that Ed was not here for his brother now.

"Brother…Ed come on now your being rude, the Colonel came all the way down here to see you," he turned to look up at Roy, "The doctor said talking to people while they're in a coma sometimes helps, they can still hear what you're saying and Mrs. Rocha said that if you touch them they do better from the contact," he recited this as he stroked his hands over Ed's again trying to elicit a response from him.

His heart tripped a beat or two faster. Ed could hear him? He would feel it if he touched him, he would know Roy was there waiting for him. A million touches, caresses, holds and gestures made his arms, hands and fingers ache. A thousand words demanded to be said, all at once, now _now_ now. He tried to stifle the sudden joy, the exurbanite emotion of hope that had deflated when he walked in the room felt ready to almost burst. The light bulb went off in his head a few times before being smashed by the hammer his conscious was holding. Each bulb of an idea cracking under the head of the hammer with an electric pop the brief fizzle of blue neon energy coiling along the curled wire. Dancing around the scatter pot of his thoughts and ….one light bulb clicked itself into being and the hammer rested steadily in his psyche's hands.

"I don't think he can hear you, Alphonse," Roy said airily, watching Ed's face for even a twitch of recognition, taking a deep breath "With such small ears like the ones he has he probably couldn't even hear an elephant walk past him,"

Both held their breaths, one doing so even though he physically couldn't, waiting for the outburst that was expected of the blonde boy in the bed.

"He's a microscopic bean anyway you wouldn't want to squish him like an ant," Clearly being subjected to Ed's infuriated rants of fabricated height abuse had taken its toll on his mind. Roy was carefully going through the long list of names, insults, slurs, slights, invectives, innuendos, well aware of the hammer spinning around in his conscious grip. When Ed woke up he was going to demand compensation for the mental trauma.

"But Colonel," Alphonse began, the voice of reason. "He's such a _small_ microscopic bean anyway, if you tried squishing him like an ant he would just fit in between the tread on your boots."

He took it all back, Al was entitled to far more mental compensation then he ever would be. To think one little blonde boy had reduced them both to this form of foolish, childish name calling. Like children, that's really the only word to describe the two of them, children waiting for the moment when their friend would be released from timeout to come and play again.

Hoping for it, wishing for it but nothing. The light bulb in his head grew dim and went out.

Not so much as a twitch, let alone the miraculous awakening they wanted. The hammer swung, Roy knew it would, relentlessly down in a swift arc and the dead bulb exploded into black glassy stars.

Roy let out the breath he had been holding, feeling himself go as limp and stretched as a child's overblown party balloon. He stepped closer to Ed and Al relinquished the hand he had been holding, placing it in the colonels hands before Roy even knew what he was doing and stepped away. Roy looked to him, confusion and surprise mixing in amid the tangle of his dejected emotions. Alphonse was looking out the window apparently absorbed in his book, which was upside down, his back pointedly turned towards his brother and the colonel.

Roy wryly smiled wrapping his hand around Ed's and intertwining their fingers, holding tightly to him like a life line. Roy bent closer, almost nose to nose with his lover and pressed his forehead to the crown of Ed's golden hair. Watching him like he would in the mornings when Ed was still limp-limbed and sprawled next to him, head tucked under his chin, nose pressed into the crook of his neck, soft tendrils of hair tickling his cheek and the flutter of his lashes brushing against his skin. But there was no movement from Ed, no change in his muted face. He withheld the whimper cramming it back down his throat with fierce pride. He leaned closer pressing his face to the side of Ed's head and whispered in his ear. "Edward, wake up. Your brother's here waiting for you, he needs you…" ever so softly cupping his face with his left hand, resting his forehead against Ed's.

Why of all the people he could have to be in a relationship with, of all the people he could be enamored to, why Fullmetal? Why the boy who grated against his nerves, threw up roadblocks in his path, the brat who was so beautiful even when he was unconscious, the stubbornly loyal idiot who was so immature at times yet frighteningly the complete opposite at others, the man who was the most dangerous lethally attractive evil to him when he managed to pull his masks away and making Roy's heart bleed for him.

Breathe.

Roy leaned up and kissed Ed's forehead, his lips brushing against the white bandage there. He looked down at their hands, at the knot of their fingers; why Fullmetal, _because he loved him_. Softly, barely a whisper "Please wake up… please come back to me."

His heart wept when there was no reply.

The raven haired man straightened easing his fingers from in between the blonde's, settling the hand back on the bed beside him with a longing desire to have it in his grasp again. Roy looked to Alphonse who had turned his book around the proper way, cleared his throat, slipped his mask back into place and spoke. "I'll be back Friday to check on Fullmetal's progress, I have meetings tomorrow and I'm afraid I've been neglecting some paperwork the lieutenant will want finished for the week," He walked over to the door and looked back to the suit of armor, cast a glance towards Ed then back to Al. "Goodnight Alphonse."

"Goodnight Colonel," Al returned as the door closed.

Day III

There would be no Thursday when Roy was Fuhrer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Ich Will  
**Pairing: **RoyxEd  
**Word Count: **about 6000  
**Rating: R**  
**Summery: **While on assignment an accident leaves Ed in a coma. Roy learns that the rogue alchemist Ed was after is on the loose with an insidious agenda for revenge. Can Roy catch him before it's too late? Or will he lose Ed forever? RoyxEd

**A/N: **I'm just going to leave this here and see if anyone notices...I'll be suprised if anyone remembers this very neglected story. A year spent on one chapter just baffles me as to how the hell it happened. But better late than never ^^; Please Enjoy and a Happy New Year to everyone!

**Disclaimer: ****I do not own FMA or the characters, only the writing is mine.**

**Fullmetal Alchemist © Hiromu Arakawa**

* * *

Day IV

Morning emerged from the night with bright beams of radiant light through the kitchen window. The golden rays of sun fell on clean tiles, an empty sink, over the counter where one lone coffee cup sat, to fall upon the chair Roy Mustang was settled in. The sunlight illuminating a few files upon the table beside an open notebook; the pages bare. The man himself was not any better for ware.

Roy sat blinking at the papers in front of him; he'd given up trying to sleep in the early hours of the morning. So he had went down stairs, made a pot of coffee, gathered some work and...done nothing. There was a scraggly growth of stubble on his jaw, bags lined his eyes from a night without rest. His stomach growled but he paid it no attention, the very thought of food turned his appetite sour.

A faint cadence of bird song and morning traffic reached his ears and he looked blearily to the clock. The glare from the sun making him squint his tired eyes at the hands that proclaimed it to be a quarter to seven. He grimaced then ran both hands over his face and through his hair. Havoc would be along with the car at any moment. An as wretched as he felt, Roy did not want to start the day off with his lieutenant up his ass.

There was one thing to be said of this work week and Roy spent a good fifteen minutes of his lunch hour trying to find a way to describe it properly. Bad was an understatement, horrible seemed lacking in creativity, as did ghastly, upsetting, dreadful, unbearable and atrocious. All true but hardly befitting of this particular week; worst week of his life?

No, though it was fighting for high rank, this was not the worst week of Roy's life. When no word seemed accurate enough the Colonel rose from his desk, walked around it towards the bookshelf to retrieve the dust entombed dictionary to pour through as a voice in his head that sound too much like Fullmetal said "It's been shitty."

Yes, it had been a shitty week. As he recalled, standing idly in front of his desk, leaning back against the mahogany. Thursday had been agonizing in an endless slew of paperwork and meetings on agenda's for paperwork, Wednesday had been…disheartening that Ed was not awake yet, and Tuesday, Roy was sure he'd nearly had a heart attack. Monday had been the only sane day, the only normal day of this entire week. This in itself had to be a sign of cosmic imbalance somewhere in the universe. Monday's were the day of tribulation. The day of misery and suffering; it was the beginning of the week, the start of all trouble. Monday was an absolute evil.

Monday had been the last day that he'd held his lover.

The thought burst like an icy bubble, spilling its glacial tide down Roy's spine, freezing him in place as the hostile reflection took root. It had been early Monday morning, which was not entirely unusual since Ed normally stayed with him on Sunday nights and then left come morning after Roy had gone to work. But as oft was to happen an assignment would call Ed away in the early hours of the morning to catch a train or in this case, catch a criminal. They stood in the foyer, in the strong protective circle of each other's arms, a few feet from the door and the world outside, sharing a goodbye kiss.

Ed was warm and gently falling back into slumber pressed against the taller man's chest, sighing contentedly into the white cotton of Roy's shirt while the dark eyed man pressed his nose to the crown of blonde hair. Inhaling the scent of leather, machine oil and the sinfully faint trace of his soap coming from the young alchemist, Roy hid his smirk in the golden tresses, kissed Ed's forehead, and then kissed him again. His tongue delving inside for a taste, meeting the wriggling muscle in Ed's mouth and nipping at his lovers bottom lip with a soft edge of teeth. The sun was nothing but a faint line of smeared light on the horizon. But that hadn't mattered to Roy because he had the sun in his arms.

"One more," Ed husked already tipping his head up to meet his lovers lips again.

"Someone's feeling greedy this morning," the raven haired man had teased, nuzzling along the side of the younger man's face.

"I always want one more," the blonde smiled, open, trusting and heartbreakingly beautiful.

Something clicked within Roy's brain at the same time that his heart missed a beat. It wasn't the first time that he had thought about Ed and him in the long run. Roy had been consumed by the thought on his mind almost constantly for the past month, trying to find the right time, the right place to speak out. He'd tried before to say what he felt and had never been able to find the courage to take the final plunge. But it finally fit; it made clear and perfect sense when his lover smiled like that. This was the rest of Roy's life, right here in his arms, "Ed, I…"

"Yeah?" tawny gold irises looked up at him gazing into dark obsidian and Roy felt like his entire soul was laid bare before a God. Every flaw and imperfect detail in plain view to be weighed, judged and found lacking. His throat stopped up and he couldn't find the words anymore. Couldn't expose himself like that, give up all of himself and not know the outcome. He backtracked flinching away from the truth and choosing a safer option: the truth disguised as another truth.

"I always want one more too," he finished lamely bending down to capture pink swollen lips with his own, trying to put all the emotion he felt behind the subtle meaning of those words. Different from the ones he had meant to say but was too afraid to even speak aloud.

Files littered the top of his desk in skewed stacks threatening to topple at the wrong moment; a few had been made into spherical objects resembling wadded paper snowballs. Several pens lay forlornly like forgotten cannons on a battlefield beside an empty cup with brown rings staining it's rim. He couldn't even find the phone beneath the clutter. How was he supposed to work with this kind of ataxia and disorganization? Sudden inspiration or rather self-preservation from the turn of his thoughts gave Roy the motivation to clean his workspace. So he turned toward his desk and began organizing the files.

It was overcast and the sun kept peeking out from behind hazy gray clouds, bright sunlight filling the office in blinding intervals. Outside the window the urban sprawl of Central lay in pockets of sunlight and shadow. Bit by bit the surface of his desk became visible again. However the Colonel's thoughts were not so easily tucked away. They clamored in the confines of his brain, sharp accusing voices. How was he able to kiss his lover then send him off to chase after a lunatic like Howards and yet he couldn't utter a four letter word?

He was a coward. Undeserving of someone like Edward Elric, who only deserved the best, needed someone better than a pusillanimous murderer and compulsive liar. Someone who could give themselves as whole heartedly as Ed did in everything. Why hadn't he told Ed truthfully yet? Why had he hesitated, offered up some metaphorical simile of his feelings and hoped that Ed could feel the passion through his lips and felt it just as he did the last time he'd kissed him. And then it hit him like a cannon ball, exploding his insides in a nauseating organ filled mess beneath his skin. Monday was the last day he'd kissed his lover.

He was falling, he had to be because this was the sensation he knew as weightless surprise before he would hit the ground but he was still standing. Beneath his uniform he was cold and clammy, he couldn't feel the sun that had finally broken free of the cloud cover and now filled the space of the office with its warm rays of light. Numb, yet able to feel the buzz of his thoughts inside his skull.

"Sir, the Chief of Police is here to see you," the lieutenant's voice cut through his thoughts like a speeding bullet, sending the remains of his angst to splatter against the window in front of him. The raven haired man looked down to the papers in his hand and noticed that his knuckles were white as he nearly tore the papers in his fist. Roy steadied his thoughts, loosened his grip and shoved the bleeding mess of his emotions to the side for now.

"Show him in," he answered calmly, straightening the papers in his hand and pulling his mask firmly back into place.

A man in his mid-forties entered wearing the dark navy uniform of the civilian police department. Brown hair just beginning to grey along the sides cut short to his skull. The man's eyes scanned the room before settling on Roy. He stopped a few feet in front of the colonel, clasping his hands behind his back. "Colonel Mustang," he said stiffly.

"Chief Collins, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Roy inquired extending his hand; knowing that anything that the Chief of Police could not say in a report or pass on through a subordinate would not be pleasurable news.

"I'm here to conclude my report on the warehouse explosion from three days ago," Collins replied grasping Roy's hand with a petulant smile. "I am sorry to stop by unannounced but I felt this information was highly important given the circumstances." He, however, looked as if his presence here was merely a formality rather than a necessity.

Roy nodded and motioned to one of the leather couches, sitting opposite the police chief once the man was seated.

The relationship between the civilian police department and the military was tenuous as best downright hostile at worst. A never ending battle of jurisdiction often followed any investigation that correlated between the two: often resulting in more paperwork lined with red tape.

Mustang knew Collins to be a man of ethics, who liked everything done by the book or he would throw the book at you himself. The man was good at what he did and he was good with his men. He was a man Roy wanted to keep within arms length; to do that, it was best to appease him with a show of good conduct.

"I read the initial report Wednesday," Roy said first, recalling the particulars. The report consisted mainly of damages from the explosion, equipment and valuables lost. At the time the Chief's report detailed that squads were still shifting through the debris and had found bloodied pieces of the perpetrators clothing as well as a the severed left ear, pinky and ring fingers. Later they had uncovered the charred remains of what was assumed to be Algot Howards' body. An autopsy was to be performed later in the week.

Collins gave a grunt of acknowledgment, before he began to speak almost as if he was picking up where his earlier report left off.

"The autopsy concluded that the body we found was not Algot Howards, rather they belong to a man who's been missing for some time. However, the missing ear and fingers we recovered belong to the suspect and we're currently setting detail around hospitals and contacting doctors who may have come into contact with him. With injuries such as his, he would more than likely seek medical attention."

Roy felt a chill go down his spine. He had thought Howards dead and waiting to be sliced open on a steel table. He had been so concerned with Ed that he had passed over the possibility that the one responsible for this whole mess could still be lurking out there.

"I'll send someone from my own command to assist you with your search,"

"Colonel Mustang, I assure you, my men are more than capable-"

"Then think of it as an extra hand in your investigation,"

Collins kept his face neutral, a wise move in Roy's opinion, the only sign of his displeasure being the slightest flare of his nostrils as he kept his eyes trained on the Colonel. Roy's stare, however, was dauntless as he calculated the Chief's next move. There were three viable outcomes, all of which the Colonel was prepared for; Collins would acquiesce, of that Roy had no doubt, there was only the matter of what he would demand in retribution.

Roy saw the moment of his victory and held the smirk firmly in check as Collins looked away then resettled himself on the couch. Moving on to his next item of business as if the mock battle of wills had never happened.

"Given the suspects unstable disposition and increasingly violent nature, I request the permission to release the current status of the investigation for the safety of the general public,"

"You may release the information that Howards is an injured threat but any and all information regarding his involvement with the State is to remain classified," Roy ordered, knowing that any connection made public between Howards and the military would only shed more unwelcome light on the government's nefarious projects.

"I can only release what information I have been given Colonel Mustang," Collins said vehemently, his words caustic. "I was only made aware of this case late last week and up until that point your subordinate only, _briefly, _confirmed with me that he had been assigned to assist my men with the search and capture of the suspect."

Chief Collins nostrils flared in the memory of Ed's disregard of his authority. "_I_ was never given the proper documentation of Howards file," he bridled with disgust.

Roy fought the urge to shrug his shoulders. Ed barely even checked in with him to hand in reports how was he supposed to make him follow protocol with anyone else?

"Fullmetal is still in many ways a child, though he has been with the State for nearly half a decade. I will deal with him appropriately once he has recovered," Roy spoke diplomatically, hoping that Ed would never know that he had called him a child. That would open a whole can of worms that was best left untouched.

"Which brings me to the other reason why I'm here. I understand the Fullmetal Alchemist has sustained injuries that have left him incapacitated. Until Howards can be found I would advise setting a security measure for his well-being."

"You believe him to be hostile towards my subordinate?" Roy's voice was hard, his jaw rigid.

"Yes, Colonel I do. The missing man we found was a man who had crossed Howards in his experiments and because of that he was made an experiment himself," Collins looked pale for a moment before he looked up and held Roy's gaze. "As insubordinate as Major Elric may be he is not cannon fodder for a mad mans agenda."

There was silence for a few tense moments while Collins seemed to assess his thoughts then he looked to the watch he wore and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to have taken you away from your work, I must be returning to the station to prepare the public announcement of Howards."

He stood and Roy stood with him, feeling his muscles seize with adrenaline to bolt for the door and tear the city apart to find the lunatic who would hurt his Ed if given the chance.

"Good day Colonel," Chief Collins nodded shaking the Colonel's hand.

"Chief," Roy returned and then he was alone in his office.

Roy felt sick, no he felt angry, angry at himself. How could he have been so stupid, so careless, as to not have checked in with another source whether Howards was dead or not? Now his negligence had given a lunatic a head start at hiding. What's more the damage he could do to civilians, property and the military's reputation would cause ill favored attention on himself. The raven haired man closed his eyes and took a deep breath, squashing the quivering rush of anxiety in his stomach beneath the full on force of his will.

Then the Colonel went to his office door and called for Hawkeye to phone down to the Investigations Department, "Arrange an immediate meeting with Captain Fokker, tell him the matter is urgent."

Before she had even picked up the receiver, Mustang turned to the rest of his command.

"There's been a development in Fullmetal's case. The suspect, Algot Howards, is alive and on the run; there's also reason to believe he's deteriorating psychologically, so the quicker he's found the better," he said at length.

"Warrant Officer Falman, go through any and all files on Algot Howards; I need to know what his field of expertise is and if he had any known allies within the military. Fuery, I want a direct communication line set up with the Chief of Police. Second lieutenant Breda, hit the streets. See if you can find anyone who's seen or given shelter to a man with severe injuries, he'll be missing an ear and some fingers. Report back to lieutenant Havoc should any red flags appear,"

There was a resounding chorus of 'Yes, Sir'.

Roy felt a magnitude of reassurance at the proficiency of his team. Like a well maintained machine they worked, springing into motion; Breda and Falman exiting the office almost at once, Fuery writing out a list of equipment as he fiddled with a cable cord. Each intent on their goal with a determined focus that made Roy proud of the people he had chosen to be apart of his command.

"Sir, Captain Fokker is waiting for you down in Investigations,"

"Very good, lieutenant, I trust I can leave you in charge in my absence,"

"I oversee an entire office, plus your work load Colonel," she said inclining her head towards the remaining occupants in the room, "I'm sure I can handle these two."

Roy chuckled, "Of course,"

"Anything else, Sir?"

"Have Havoc prepare the car, I won't be more than twenty minutes,"

It was the same sterile room, he had seen twice prior to today. The same four walls, a window, the chair in the corner and the bed against the wall. Except instead of the stifling stillness from the previous days there was a flurry of motion going on within the room.

A couple of nurses were hovering around the bed, adjusting the drip in Ed's arm and preforming various tests with a needle on the underside of his right foot. Ed, himself, was propped up on a set of pillows, a tracheal tube protruding from his mouth connected to a behemoth of a mechanical ventilator that hummed vociferously. Another tube was inserted in Ed's nose, running to a drip bag with yellow colored liquid.

Winry, who had arrived from Resembool, was sitting on a stool with Ed's detached arm on the roll-away desk. Looking along the underside of wires near the port, a screwdriver held between her lips as she worked.

The doctor with salt and pepper hair stood at Ed's side, inspecting the bandage around his ribs. Removing some of these bandages revealed a neat line of stitches and dark purple bruising that circumnavigated around his torso.

No one noticed him in the doorway. Roy felt as if he was a spectator watching the events unfold around him. A silent observer to a scene that he wished was an all too vivid nightmare. But it wasn't. Roy clenched his fist, knuckles straining against the fabric of his gloves in his pocket. How badly he wanted to take his place at Ed's side. How he wanted to hold his lover's hand again and let him know that he was here. Despair gnawed in his gut and agony clenched his heart. Watching one of the nurses work with the needle, Roy could feel every stab of the metal point as it disappeared into the tan skin, each time with no movement or response from Fullmetal.

_'I'm here Ed,'_

Roy shook his head, dislodging any and all sentimental thoughts out of his mind. He was here as Colonel Roy Mustang, a commanding officer looking after the well being of his injured subordinate: nothing more.

Once the doctor was done with his examination of Ed's ribs, Roy called him aside.

"Colonel Mustang?" the stout doctor, his name tag reading Zimmerman, asked stepping outside of Ed's room.

"I've come to inform you, the criminal responsible for Fullmetal's condition is still at large. To ensure his safety, hospital security will be handled by military Investigation officers,"

After a brief explanation of the situation and of the danger to Fullmetal, Roy left the doctor to his duties.

"Colonel Mustang?"

Roy turned at the sound of his name and found Al walking down the hall towards him, the red haired nurse, Helen Rocha, beside him pushing a cart full of food trays. She inclined her head up towards the suit of armor without a word and continued on down the hall with her cart of food.

"What are you doing here, Sir?" the boy asked.

Roy bit the inside of his cheek, hating the news he was about to impart onto the younger Elric.

"Howards is still alive," he said roughly feeling the words scrap their way past his throat. He'd said that phrase a lot within the past hour yet they had never been as hard to say as they had just been.

"What? But how?" Al gasped, the sound harsh in the hollowness of the armor.

"I don't know. However, I intend to find him before he can do any more damage,"

They both looked simultaneously across the hall where a little blonde boy, brother and lover, was the cause of all their concerns.

"Will you let him know I was here,"

"Of course, Colonel, but you could tell-"

"I can't," Roy cut him off, then explained in a softer tone, "I'm sorry Al but that wouldn't be wise,"

"Oh," was all he said.

"If you'll excuse me," and with that Roy left Al standing where he was.

Outside, he found Havoc and the car where he'd left them. Getting in the front seat, Roy instructed the blue-eyed smoker to take him to the west side of Central. The dark turn of his thoughts keeping the raven haired man silent and tense for the entire fifteen minute ride.

Day V

Roy stumbled out of bed sometime around ten in the morning still dressed in his twisted uniform pants and crumpled work shirt. He made an attempt at straightening the wrecked white cotton before he abandoned his effort and yanked the shirt over his head and pitched it somewhere near the closet. Readjusting the calvary skirt before that too was thrown in the direction of the closet, Roy made his way down stairs to the phone, and dialed the number for the Investigations Department.

"Fokker" the Captain answered on the second ring.

"This is Mustang, has there been any development?"

A pause at the other end of the line while Roy held his breath praying the bastard was locked in a cell, yet secretly wanting there to be some clue. Something to distract him, give him focus and keep him busy.

"Sir, there's been no sighting and no new development in the case."

Roy hung up the phone shortly after, ran both hands through his hair and sighed. Once his thoughts were collected, he prioritized the list of places to search and leads to follow. First, however, he needed a shower.

Behind the butcher shop on Carlton street along a dingy alley sat a dilapidated halfway house. The worn brick foundation stable despite the missing masonry to the facade, it served it's purpose. That current purpose being that it was indistinguishable from any other nearly abandoned building on Central's north side. Shutters were missing from most of the windows save one, with a weathered pair hanging askew by their hinges. Inside the main entrance, the lobby boasted a singular coach on a threadbare rug and a coffee table held up by a stack of yellowed phone books. Down a hallway behind various battered doors a junkie was cutting his precious stash into fine lines, a Jezebel was with a customer and somewhere a radio was playing the droning voice of a daytime talk show professing the politics of the country to be in dire need of reform.

Up a flight of rickety stairs near the rear of the building another hallway ran the width of the establishment, curving around a central room that had, at one time, served as a sun parlor. Within heavy drapes and stained sheets covered the large windows that overlooked a forgotten garden. Wicker chairs and furniture lay scattered beneath dust covers, illuminated by a single dirty light bulb, around the cracked marble floor. Tucked away in a corner was a cage, the straw and feces the only remnants of it's occupant.

The air stank of stale smoke, urine and an acrid odor of burnt meat. But all this did not disturb the man who sat at a table not far off wrapping a fresh pad of gauze around his left hand. Spread out on the table before the man was a bottle of whiskey, a scalpel, medical tape, some bloodstained dressing pads and several pieces of ink smudged paper. Written on the paper was a multitude of equations, schematics and diagrams involving large amounts of frequency vibrations.

The man hissed as he tightened his hold on the dressing pad, taking a quick pull off the bottle of whiskey he picked up the scalpel and cut off the excess bandage. After securing the gauze with a bit a tape he looked to his notes, tracing one diagram with a yellowed fingernail.

The man laughed.

It was late in the evening before Roy set foot through his front door again. Slow progress from a day spent tracking the whereabouts of Howards had drained him physically however, not entirely mentally. Roy knew the cure for such a state, when the body was worn yet the mind still lurked within awareness. He removed his coat, hung it on a hook in the foyer, unlaced his boots and set them neatly beneath his coat. Walked into the kitchen and pulled a medium sized glass bottle, half full of a yellowish-brown substance from the cupboard. From a second cupboard he produced a squat round tumbler, added a few pieces of ice from the icebox and poured a measure from the decanter of whiskey into it. Roy replaced the lid to the bottle, picked up his drink and went to the living room.

Walking in front of the cold fire place Roy took a drink from the tumbler in his hand, felt the liquor burn down his throat and settle in his stomach. He snapped his fingers, sending a controlled amount of flame towards the logs in the grate; the wood smoked then caught fire. Setting his glass on the mantle of the fireplace, the raven haired man removed his military jacket laying it over the back of the couch, then removed his gloves, setting them on the side table within easy reach should he need them. Taking his glass of whiskey Roy sank tiredly into the couch cushions, watching the blaze in the hearth.

Seductive tongues of fire licked along the edges of charring wood. Sending whispers of pale gray smoke to curl and dance their way up the chimney. The warm glow of the flames made the closed in space of the living room even smaller; more intimate. It made him think of cold nights ensconced within almost too thin blankets that subtly encouraged people to sit closer together in front of the fire. It made Roy think of Ed.

He could see it all too clearly, it was the weekend: Saturday night. Ed should have knocked on his door an hour ago. They would have shared their standard greeting of, "Good evening Fullmetal"- "Shut up Bastard." Once inside though the blonde would have dropped all pretenses and flung himself into Roy's arms, gracing him with a kiss. Then Ed would have pitched his coat somewhere and kicked his boots off in the foyer, where they would have lain in some haphazard state until Ed donned them again Monday morning. Like a magnet being pulled north Ed would have headed for the kitchen, raiding Roy's pantry of any food that could be found.

Later Ed would be sprawled on the couch, balancing a plate of food on his stomach and more than likely reading one of the rare alchemical texts Roy possessed. While Roy himself would be seated beside his smaller lover, on what little available space was left of the coach, reading the newspaper. Sneaking glances of the young man beside him because the fire would most certainty be roaring in the grate and Ed in the firelight was just- Roy fumbled for an adequate word for his imagining- breathtaking.

Lithe body and solid muscles shifting beneath tan skin turned to molten gold by the kiss of light. Striking features accented by the shadows the fire played across the room. He would be a God in repose. Most importantly he would be unharmed, happy and safe. Above all else, though the beautiful creature before his mind's eye would be with him.

The alcohol was beginning to take the edge off Roy's mind. Smoothing out the frayed ends of his thoughts and taking the bite off of reality. Dark eyes fell to the empty side of the couch, the bare cushions stretching out like a barren waste land to the left of Roy. Making him feel alone and isolated within his home. The bitter sigh escaped him in a rush of whiskey laced breath. He was thinking about Ed too much if he was drowning himself in a glass of alcohol and imagining that the blonde boy was beside him within arm's reach: much like some nights before Ed was actually his.

If he could just figure out a way to keep the Fullmetal Alchemist off his mind then he could survive this. After all, since their relationship had started Ed had been sent away on numerous assignments. All of which Roy had gone through and calculated the estimated travel time, actual military related duty required, the infallible luck that Ed had to cause trouble or get into more trouble, and it was a few hours out of Central: a couple hours away from each other at the least; a day maybe two at most. Since their relationship had started three assignments had pried then apart from each other. Had cast them far from the others side in the name of duty. They had survived that; a couple more days, his heart _clenched_, and he could have Ed back at his side.

'You barely survived the two weeks he was away in the East,' the part of Roy's mind that was not happily sedated, hanging in the back of the room like the one grouchy sober bastard at happy hour, added in. Roy studiously ignored it by taking another drink from the near empty tumbler in his hand.

When they'd first started seeing each other he'd assumed that they would last for a couple of weeks and after the initial break up there would be the occasional fuck. But as time wore on and Roy got used to waking up with Ed in his arms on the weekends, he found he rather liked it. It could have been the fact that he wasn't young anymore, would have been a good excuse if Roy felt up to deluding himself tonight. But he was pretty sure it was just who Ed was, the person he had become, that had lovingly knocked Roy over the head, clipped a leash onto his collar and said _mine_.

Ed demanded the full and entirety of himself. Not parts, not some, god forbid half but all of it. Everything he had to offer, his charm, his humor, his intelligence, his present, his past, and his future.

The amber colored whiskey swirled in the glass around the ice as Roy tilted the drink back and forth in his hand. His future. He set the glass down on the coffee table and leaned back on the couch raising his arms above his head and covering his eyes with his arms, closing them and taking in a deep breath, holding it, then letting it out in a rush staring up at the flickering shadows on the ceiling.

His future _was_ Ed. For the past month Roy had finally realized that as the only possibility. Roy had weighed the thought that had been sitting in his skull for the past four months since he and Ed had taken their relationship further than sex and found that there was no other alternative that he wanted.

He had gotten use to Ed regularly being around lately; there hadn't been any assignments that had taken Ed out of the city for the past month. Perhaps that was why he was having such a hard time with this.

Roy stared into the dance of sparks, lost in thought. By the time he was sure he had a coherent idea of how to endure the days until Ed awoke the raven haired man was tired and in sore need of sleep if he was to continue his search of a rouge alchemist. But thoughts of a cold an empty, Ed-less bed kept Roy in front of the fire, where it was warm, comforting and familiar.

Excuses lined up in Roy's mind- he was just too tired to go upstairs, the couch was more comfortable anyway- as he stretched out on the coushins facing the fire. He could put his plan into action starting in the morning, when he was expected to be Colonel Mustang and not Roy.

He was a Coward.


End file.
